Ginger Snaps
by Stephen Ratliff
Summary: The summer after Harry Potter's second year, some serious mental health help is called for. Unfortunately, that mental health help is only available on Spinner's End. Also, an extreme disguise is required for one of those needing help which is just going to make things even worse.
1. Recommended Treatment

**Ginger Snaps**

_**Author's Note**__: This work started as my 2013 NaNo attempt. I wanted to try something a bit different. You may be thinking, doesn't this author always try something a bit different. _

_Now, at the time I had in progress several Harry Potter stories. There was _Ritually Yours_, which was working it's way through first year. There was _Honor to Serve_ which was handling the summer after the fourth year, and there was _Take no Umbridge_ which was handling the fifth year. In order to keep the ideas apart, I decided that I would not work in any year I already had a story in._

_This left second, third, sixth, and seventh year. I started looking around for ideas. It may not surprise you, given _Honor a Hufflepuff_, that I was looking for things that should have been done, but didn't. In this case, treatment of a certain young girl who was possessed by a dark lord. I, of course, can't make it easy, and I was unwilling to do a Harry Potter story without Harry Potter. Fortunately a solution presented itself to that issue, and along with the addition of Snape, I had a plot to work with._

_Many of those who reviewed the first draft of this work found the change of Snape to be too much, which resulted in a second and third full draft of the first three chapters. It made the work a lot better, in my opinion, so I would like to thank_ _many members of Caer Azkaban for their responses. As this is getting long, I won't be naming them here._

_I'm going to be posting parts of this story as I finish editing them, but each part will be posted no sooner than a week after the last story chapter I post, of any story. So if the muse gives me some _Take no Umbridge II_ next week, for instance, you won't get the first full Chapter until December._

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk, nibbling at a lemon tart. The 1992 - 1993 school year was over, and he had a lot of leftover paperwork to complete, even though the Hogwarts Express had departed an hour before. As he nibbled his tart, he decided that he could put the staff evaluations aside for the day. He was going to have to do something about Severus and the just completed second year Gryffindors, though.

Dumbledore had not enjoyed this year. With the Chamber of Secrets having been opened, the Board of Governors temporarily sacking him, and his Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor not only turning out to be a fraud, but a rake and a memory rapist. If it his use of Ronald Weasley's broken wand hadn't backfired on him, making him unable to contribute to his own defense, Dumbledore would have been convening the Wizengamot to sentence him to the veil through which no one returns.

He shuffled the papers on his desk, looking longingly at the Potion's journal article on an innovative suppression transformation potion that he kept getting interrupted when reading. Work before pleasure, though. Dumbledore picked up the report from the Hospital Wing regarding the lingering issues for students, with special attention on those that had been in the chamber.

Ronald Weasley looked to have managed the least damage, though he'd apparently caught a little of the nimbus of the spell that backfired on Lockhart. He'd been mostly unharmed, and unfortunately had not been in a position to help Harry in the final confrontation. Then again, sometimes the hero had to go it alone. Dumbledore was well aware of that.

Harry Potter had been cast by fate and prophecy to be the hero of his generation. As usual, his medical report was voluminous for the year. A good portion of it could be blamed on the now revealed nitwit that Dumbledore had been forced to hire do to lack of other applicants. This year, Dumbledore intended to go recuiting early and often to find a decent professor for that class. Of course, his final injuries of the year, unless you count the cracked rib, could be blamed on Tom Riddle.

That had been healed, aside from the emotional trauma, Dumbledore noted. This was the first time he'd seen the last section. It seemed that Madam Pomfrey had decided to detail the long term issues that she'd seen with Harry. As Dumbledore read it, for the first time in one place, he grew more and more upset with both the Dursleys for their treatment of Harry and himself for no checking up on him.

A history of multiple broken bones, whip marks, signs of malnutrition and constant exhaustion on his growth ... the litany went on and on. Dumbledore forced himself to read the full reconstructed timeline of injuries. By the time he finished the detailed descriptions of the likely cause and original appearance of the injuries, he found himself bending over his waste basket to rid himself of his breakfast and third of his tart.

And he'd just sent the boy home to that family again.

He had to do something to get him out of that.

Of course that wasn't the only urgent recommendation that Madam Pomfrey had to make. Ginerva Weasley was right below, with mental trauma that Pomfrey didn't believe she was capable to treat. She recommended a full evaluation and treatment by a mind healer or a muggle psychologist, the latter of which Pomfrey thought might actually do a better job. A recommendation was included, with a note that "Mr. Potter might benefit from the same."

Dumbledore took up a fresh bite his tart, trying to clear the taste of bile from his tastebuds. The Weasley's couldn't afford such treatment, and certainly wouldn't consider the muggle option, which was according to Pomfrey both better and cheaper. If, however, he were to approach Molly Weasley with it as a way to help Harry, and say that the cost would be waived due to Ginerva's generous donation ...

Fawkes began to sing his approval of Dumbledore's plan as it formed. Of course there were a few holes in the plan. Given that the psychologist that Pomfrey had recommended lived on the street that Severus did, housing during treatment seemed easy enough, though Harry would need to be disguised somehow. Dumbledore's eyes caught that journal article again. Harry would probably be a touch upset with him for the method, but it would work.


	2. Untreated Condition

_**Author's Note:**__ This chapter got rewritten at least five times in various parts. Only Ginny's scene survived relatively the same as the original draft. It is also my attempt to set up a slightly different Snape using only the parts that have been revealed as occurring before this point in the time line. That means that flash back scenes that occur before the summer after the second year of Harry's time at Hogwarts are considered for the purpose of characterizing Snape for this story but not any other events occurring in books three and up. Keep this in mind when reading the Snape scene that follows._

_Expect the next chapter no earlier than December fifth. If I post another story in between then and now, expect this story's next chapter to be delayed. I have to fix the opening scene of that chapter anyway._

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><p><strong>Chapter One<strong>

The school year was over, and after a bit of clean up of his quarters, Professor Severus Snape intended on heading home to Spinner's End for the Summer. Tonight, though, he intended on spending a quiet evening working through the frustrations that the year had brought. There were times when he wished he was the type to get roaring mad and destructive when he was drunk. Unfortunately he was a quiet and introspective drunk. Or perhaps fortunate, as he'd seen what an angry drunk looked like with his father.

This would be the second year in a row where Severus intended to spent the night after the departure of the students getting drunk. In fact, it was only the third such time after school's end he'd gotten drunk at Hogwarts, and fourth time he'd done so as a Hogwarts Professor.

The first time had been his second year teaching at Hogwarts, and first year as Head of Slytherin. He had never had such dunderheads as the fifth year that year. It had taken three years for the elves to repair the results of Edwin Handel's claimed to be unintended fireworks. It had not only ruined Potions Lab Five, but it had resulted in the collapse of the Ancient Runes classroom into the said lab less than an hour later. Two house elves had died. How he made it to the end of the year without strangling Handel and his inconsiderate, bungling, Gryffindor classmates, he was sure he'd never know.

Edwin Handel was why Severus would never let anyone less than those with an Outstanding OWL in his NEWT class. Given that boy's talent, Severus figured that he would have blown up Hogwarts within a week of starting in NEWT Potions. The trail of potions disasters that the boy had left behind him was truly epic, and Severus was not surprised that two years after leaving Hogwarts, Handel had blown himself up.

The next time Severus had gotten drunk at Hogwarts, had been two days before Harry Potter arrived at Hogwarts, after Dumbledore had informed him of the plan to defeat the shade of the Dark Lord. He had actually been looking forward to Harry Potter's arrival at Hogwarts. He'd only seen him three times, twice when he was still a baby, and once at a distance when Hagrid had brought him shopping.

He'd intended on introducing himself, much like Quirrell had, but he'd been distracted by his god son, Draco, and he'd disappeared by the time he'd looked up again. True, Harry did look a lot like his father, but there was no denying his mother's eyes. There were many times when Severus had to cover his staring at those eyes with a ridiculous point reduction, which he'd quietly reverse later. It was the eyes that always got to him, with Lily and her son.

With Harry it triggered memories, memories that Severus could ill afford, not with the tasks that Dumbledore had given him. He could not be seen as favoring Harry Potter. He had to keep up the relationships with the Death Eaters who he had rightly betrayed. Everything had to show that he hated Potter. If it was not for his vow not to get drunk more than a couple times a year, and always were he would not encounter anyone else while drunk, Severus would have been known as the Drunken Professor by the end of Potter's first year.

The boy had a knack for being in the wrong place when trouble happened. Or perhaps it was the right place.

Severus wished he'd paid more attention to Potter during the first year. He had been late to start the counter curse on the broom, and if he ever found out who set fire to his robes ... well he was a bit undecided about that, because the commotion did end the curse on Potter's broom. At times he wanted them cleaning out caldrons without gloves. Other times, times which he wouldn't publically admit to his house, he considered taking the unusual step of thanking the student. He'd tried to narrow it down once, and pretty much eliminated everyone.

He knew he wasn't trusted by the students in Gryffindor, and there was a long litany of reasons why. He'd never regretted it until he saw Harry Potter laying in the hospital wing after his confrontation with Voldemort his first year. Some how in the late night light of the wing, with the moon casting it's light through the window, he saw not James Potter, the image which he'd been re-enforcing in his mind since his sorting, but Lily.

He'd ended up sharing a good scotch with McGonagall, even after ten years as a colleague, he still couldn't call her by her first name, after the students had left. Then there had been the tot of rum with Flitwick, which lead to another glass of her green house blend with Pomona. He'd ended up in his quarters drinking a case of fire whiskey that he'd confiscated from one of his Seventh Years on the last Hogsmeade weekend.

As a potion master, he hadn't had to worry about the hangover the next morning.

Severus had just tossed his second bottle into the fire, when the Headmaster knocked on the door.

"Really, Severus, this drinking the night after term can not be good for you," Dumbledore said as he strode through the door.

"You forced me to play this role," Severus said. "You will at least allow me to drown my sorrows, to regret the role I can not play in Lily's son's life, the night I can drop that role for the year."

Dumbledore nodded, with that annoying twinkle in his eyes. Severus knew what that meant. There was a new plot afoot, and somehow, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had a role that he needed Serervus to play. With twenty-two ounces of fire whiskey in him, Severus could not bring himself to care. At least until Dumbledore placed Harry Potter's medical record in front of him.

"Madam Pomfrey says that both Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley need treatment from a mind healer."

Severus took up the record and began to read it. His third fire whiskey disappeared by the time he was done.

"I have a way to fix this, Severus, but I need your help."

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><p>Ginny Weasley was afraid to fall asleep. Every time she did, she had a nightmare about the chamber. She would see Harry Potter die. Her body would be frozen, with her eyes open, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to even cry tears for what was happening before her.<p>

Since Harry had rescued her, her dreams had been filled with images of Harry failing to rescue her. She'd dreamed him being swallowed by the basilisk. She'd dreamed that he'd died in the collapse of the cavern. She'd dreamed that Lockhart's spell had killed him. She'd dreamed that he'd been crushed by the basilisk. She'd dreamed that he was drowned in the chamber. Every time she'd hear Tom Riddle's evil laugh, announcing that the Boy-Who-Lived was dead, and so was she.

So, she was spending this, the first night home from her first year at Hogwarts counting flowers on her wall. The flowers swaying in the breeze usually helped her fall asleep, but not tonight. Tonight she didn't want to, and her fear kept her staring at the flowers, and it looked like she was going to make it to dawn.

On the floor was a deck of muggle cards. She'd tried playing solitaire until she discovered that she was playing with a deck of fifty-one, being short an Ace of Diamonds. There was the stuffed kangaroo watching her from the light fixture. Hugging Captain hadn't helped, and she'd thrown him up there.

She didn't want her parents to know, but she was sure they'd find out her condition. They'd find out and she'd have to admit just how stupid she had been. If it wasn't for Harry Potter, she'd be dead.

She punched her pillow. You would think that if you were rescued by a hero, you would at least get to dream about riding into the sunset with him on a white steed. Maybe some people did, but not Ginny Weasley. No, Ginny got to watch Harry Potter die over and over again, knowing that it was her bloody fault.

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><p>"Get up!" his Aunt Petunia's voice protruded on Harry Potter's sleep. He reached over and snared his glasses. It was still barely light in the room. Since the Dursley's didn't want anyone to see his freakishness, the blind over the window actually did a good job in keeping the light out, so it wasn't easy to judge the time, until he settled his glasses on his nose. It matched every other blind on the second floor.<p>

Harry groaned as he managed to pick out the time on his alarm clock. He'd fixed it last year, but it seemed that he hadn't remembered to see the alarm last night. It was half past five in the morning. Every other boy in his dorm had told him of the bliss of sleeping in during the summer. For Harry, getting up in time for breakfast at Hogwarts was sleeping in.

"Get up!" Aunt Petunia said once again.

"Coming, Aunt Petunia," Harry said, rolling out of bed. It was stifling in the room with the blinds drawn over the closed window. There was no circulation in the room at all. He slid one of Dudley's really old and thin T-shirts over his head, and pulled up the ratty jeans. An old pair of sneakers, and he was out the door.

"About time," Petunia remarked, as Harry opened the door. "Vernon just started his shower, and breakfast must be ready so he can get to work on time. After he leaves, you'll be expected to weed the flower beds, trim the hedge, and mow the front and back garden."

"Yes Aunt Petunia," Harry said. Those tasks would take all day, if he preformed them like they should be, and he dared not to. He had a feeling that he was going to be completely spent at the end of the day.

"And when Vernon gets home from work, you're to wash the BMW," Petunia continued. He could hear the words of the weather forecaster behind her. It was going to be a very hot day, apparently.

Scratch that, by the time his day ended, Harry figured that he wouldn't just be spent, he'd be burnt out, only a cinder of what he was now.


	3. Hidden Symptoms

_**Author's Note: **__Who knew that a one scene addition/rewrite would cause me such trouble. Thanks to all who have reviewed or helped me with this story._

_This story has been modified as of 3:30 PM ET 12/10/14 from it's original posting to fix some issues with Snape. The previous draft incorrectly implied that Snape might harbor certain perversions that he does not in this story. In addition, some alterations of the description of Harry's transformation has also been done. _

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><p><strong>Chapter Two<strong>

Molly Weasley watched her daughter staggered into the kitchen, her eyes half closed. She had looked in on her daughter at dawn and seen the poor girl laying in her bed, her eyes wide open, unable to sleep. A quick sleeping charm had closed her eyes, but even with that, she was sure that Ginny had not slept much at all. She had seen Ginny tossing and turning an hour later, moaning about Harry not being able to rescue her.

"Finally up, Ginny?" Molly said, trying to sound as normal as possible. "I know I let everyone sleep in the first day back from Hogwarts, but quarter till eleven is a little bit excessive."

"I didn't close my eyes until dawn," Ginny mumbled, barely able to stumble into a seat. Molly put a plate front of her. "Sill had nightmares." She picked up her fork and took a bite.

Molly doubted that her daughter was tasting it her food at all. She seemed to be going through the motions. "The same nightmares that you've had since Harry rescued you?" her mother asked. "The ones that required Poppy to dose you with dreamless sleep potion, twice."

"Worse," Ginny said, her words coming out in a flood. "I see him die, over and over when he comes to save me. And I know he would have really died to save me. He got bit by a basilisk! If it wasn't for the Headmaster's phoenix, he'd be dead. And it would have been all my fault! My fault my classmates were petrified. Colin was my bestest friend in Gryffindor and I can't even look at him any more, I feel so guilty. And Percy is going to kill me when he realizes that I was responsible for Penelope, his girlfriend. Then Ron may be the brother who likes me the best, but I still did it to Hermione ..."

Ginny trailed off into sobs. She looked completely exhausted, as tears continued to run down her cheeks. The words of Madam Pomfrey came back to her as her daughter cried, 'No one gets over the trauma of possession without some help.'

She wanted her daughter to be with her family, to recover in her arms. She wanted Ginny to be back to normal, to be her little firecracker. Her little girl looked worse than she had when she'd visited at Hogwarts. Ginny had begged to stay at Hogwarts through the end of term, and she'd looked so much better when she got off the train. Now though, Molly could tell that being home wasn't helping Ginny. Her daughter needed help, and after less than a single day, it was clear to Molly that being home wasn't helping her do that.

Molly put her arms around her daughter from behind, feeling her body tremble as the sobs continued. She had to say something. She had to give her daughter hope. "Professor Dumbledore contacted me this morning."

Those words immediately affected her daughter, as she sniffed and brought her sobbing under control.

"He's found someone to help you," Molly continued. "He believes that she will be able to help you recover and sleep, but there is one draw back that you need to consider."

"What?" Ginny asked, her eyes catching Molly's, pleading with her silently.

"You'll have to spend the summer living in disguise in the neighborhood at Professor Snape's house," Molly told her daughter. "You won't be alone though, as Harry will be joining you."

Molly watched as her daughter's expression turned from exhaustion to determination the moment the word Harry left her mouth. She was well aware of Professor Snape's reputation. She was also quite aware of just how different the man was when you got to a private conference with him. None of her children liked Professor Snape. Professor Snape, on the other hand actually thought that a few of her children had some talent, if they'd just use it in class. His bemoaning about Fred and George had been particularly interesting when she'd been up at Hogwarts last. Still, she knew that her daughter found the Potions Professor to rank somewhere between sitting next to her Great Aunt Muriel and You-Know-Who.

"Mum," Ginny said, her gaze latching to her mothers. "I'm not letting Harry do this alone, and I need it."

Molly's eyes met Ginny's and she enfolded her in a warm hug. There was no substitute for the comfort of a mother's hug, and for a long time let her daughter basked in it's warmth. Eventually, though, Ginny pulled away and looked up at her mum with pleading eyes.

"Okay, we'll get you packed back up after you finish eating," her mother ordered. Ginny picked up her fork and started to eat again. "We'll take my stag, since your father is still looking for a new car."

Ginny dropped her fork. "No one rides in the stag," her daughter whispered.

Molly smiled. The stag had been a gift to her mother from Gideon and Fabian the Christmas after Charlie was born. It had been tuned to perfection, and was kept under a stasis spell in a shed just past the pond with a cobblestone drive of its own reaching out to a much bigger road than the one into town. "None of your brothers have," she acknowledged. "Your father and I do manage to take a little spin every once in awhile. Though it has been a while. Your father is convinced that the stag is responsible for you. "

Molly smiled as her daughter suddenly shuddered. She was sure that Arthur was right about that. It was a tradition for them to take a spin on November Second, and they had spent a rather nice interlude after the picnic. With everyone away again this autumn, Molly was sure that another picnic could be arranged, right after everyone left King's Cross.

An hour later, Molly pulled out of the shed with her daughter seated beside her in her Triumph Stag. Ginny seemed to be a bit uncomfortable in the slacks and top that Molly had put out for her. The top in particular seemed just a bit too tight. Molly made a note to see about getting her daughter a new brassiere.

"Turn the radio on, dear," Molly said, hoping that her daughter might loosen up with a little music. "Ginny, you're not going to hurt my car. Anything you do, I can fix. I put the new radio in myself when they moved Radio Three to FM radio."

Ginny gingerly turned on the radio.

"Now let's hear a bit of Igor Stranvisky's The Firebird, as played by the Vienna Philharmonic conducted by Carlos Klieber," the voice came from the radio.

"I know it's traditional to put on some sort of popular music on a journey like this, but it's rare that I have the opportunity to listen to Composer of the Week," Molly said. "Not since George ruined my charm on the wireless last summer."

"You mean we were listening to muggle broadcasts last year?" Ginny said, looking at her mother with an incredulous expression. It was nice to catch such an expression on her daughter after the fear and exhaustion.

"Not just last year, dear," Molly said, as the car accelerated onto a larger motorway than what they'd been driving on. A road sign proclaimed 'M5.' "Since you were conceived. You didn't really think that I didn't share your father's love for at least some things muggle. Now, I know you don't want to talk about all the bad events at school, but perhaps you can tell me about the good parts?"

Ginny remained silent for a moment, thinking, in Molly's judgement."Well, I guess I can tell about Valentine's Day. It wasn't too horrible, just embarrassing..."

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><p>Harry limped back into Number Four Privit Drive. His first day back from Hogwarts was murder. There was no breakfast. No, he had to start with mowing the lawn, then clipping the hedge, followed by prying up the slate path to the back garden and putting it back down on the opposite side. He wasn't even allowed to use the wheel barrow.<p>

There had been no lunch. It wasn't for the likes of him, apparently. Harry knew this was because of his uncle's fall into the bush ... a bush he had to replace after when he should have had lunch ... from Harry's once barred window. He'd had to paint the gutter, and wash the BMW, twice. Harry cursed the fact that the BMW was black, showing every speck of dirt.

He was supposed to cook dinner. That meant he would at least get to take a shower. It wouldn't be hot though. A hot shower was too good for the likes of him.

"Shower, boy," Uncle Vernon ordered. "Use plenty of soap and water. I don't want to smell you while I eat."

Harry climbed the stairs. He wasn't used to all this work after spending most of the year at Hogwarts. He'd get used to it though. He had before. An old towel grabbed from his room, he wasn't good enough to use one of the new ones, and discarded the clothes he'd gotten from Dudley and climbed into the shower.

Vernon had left the hot water on. That usually meant that he'd turn it off in the middle, but for now, Harry enjoyed the feeling of the water on his sore muscles as he scrubbed the sweet of a hard day's work off his body. Harry loved hot water showers. It wasn't something he'd got often until he had left for Hogwarts. At Hogwarts he was known for steaming up the bath with his showers.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape approached the Dursley's with resignation. Molly Weasley had already delivered Ginny Weasley, and that had ended Snape's procrastination. So he'd put on his best muggle dress, a deep brown sport coat, pale yellow shirt, and brown trousers, and picked up his black potions case. He'd ditched the tie. The outfit was the one he wore when he wanted no one to associate him with his Hogwarts Professorial persona. He'd owned it since his last year at Hogwarts. Lily had helped him buy it.<p>

As he reached the house, he noted that the car was freshly washed, and the grass cut. The house gave the impression of a well maintained middle class abode. Something, though, was giving Severus the feeling that there was something wrong. It was a feeling that he'd actually received and pushed away several times when in the presence of Potter.

He stepped up and rang the door bell. It didn't take long for the door to open. It was Petunia. The last time he'd seen Lilly's sister, she'd been a tall teen, taller than Severus. Now he met her green eyes, framed by the same washed out blond hair that he remembered from his youth. He'd last seen her the summer after his fifth year, when he'd tried to get Lily to forgive him.

Petunia had poured salt on the wound of the estrangement between him and Lily. It was Petunia who had slammed the door in his face. To make matters worse, it was Petunia who had discovered Snape's mother, dead, just after he'd returned to Hogwarts for his last year. It was hard to look at her, knowing what she thought of him, and how she'd been right about him being destined to kill Lily.

He didn't let it show though. "Good Afternoon, Petunia, I believe it's Dursley now?" Severus said, his foot moving to keep Petunia from slamming the door on his face again. "I'm one of Potter's professor's now, and we need to talk."

Petunia stepped back allowing Severus to enter. She closed the door behind him, and then introduced him to the rotund man standing at the entrance to the parlor. "Vernon, this is Professor Severus Snape, a childhood friend of Lily's and now at Harry's school. Professor Snape, my husband Vernon Dursley."

Vernon looked ready to scream at Severus. He'd been warned that Potter's uncle was abrasive to witches and wizards when he'd stopped by Widow Fig on his way in. "Mister Dursley, I've come on behalf of the Headmaster to take Mister Potter for the summer, early, as well as to notify you that he and a couple members of the staff will be by later this month so that the wards on this house may be strengthened. Potter will, of course, return next year."

* * *

><p>Somehow he managed to finish the shower before Vernon shut off the hot water. He dried off, and placing the towel around his waist headed back to his room. He didn't bother combing his hair. That never worked, or helped. He put on a more presentable outfit.<p>

"Boy! Come down here now." Uncle Vernon shouted up the stairs before Harry could get his socks and trainers on.

"Coming, Uncle Vernon!" Harry replied. He judged that there was no way that he'd be able to arrive on time if he put his shoes on, and Vernon wouldn't care about that anyway. So he left his room and headed downstairs.

* * *

><p>Severus could tell the glee that Vernon had at the idea that Potter was leaving. The shouting match that Severus had foreseen no longer threatened. Clearly the man detested Potter, and that shifted Severus's opinion to a more favorable one.<p>

Potter came down the stairs in his usual, worn, ill fitting clothes. He hadn't put on his shoes, but given the potion that Dumbledore had given Severus, it was likely that none of what Potter was wearing was going to fit him.

"Boy, you'll be spending the summer with Professor Snape."

The expression on Potter's face as his uncle said that was one that Severus was sure that he'd be looking back with fondness every day. He took great pride in the fact that he was the most feared Professor at Hogwarts. "Indeed," he said, as Potter trembled. "However, we shall have to disguise you before we head to my home. Collect your trunk, and come back down."

As Potter headed back up the stairs, Severus was directed to the parlor. He could see the Dursley boy through the door to the kitchen, consuming some sort of sugary cereal and watching the telly. He stepped into the parlor. The drapes were already closed, Severus noted. One less thing to do. "As Potter's guardians, it would be a good time to discuss my observations on his progress at Hogwarts. Now!"

The Dursleys followed Severus into the room, and took seats on the sofa. Snape remained standing in front of the covered window. His firm words had just as much effect as they did when one of his students was awaiting detention under his supervision. Few disobeyed him then.

"I have been your nephew's Potions Professor for the past two years," Severus said. "I find him with a total lack of respect for my authority. He is often quick with the comeback. That being said, he is usually well prepared for class. His ingredient preparation is his strength in potions. Potter does seem to take good notes, but his essays seem to be gauged to only cover the minimum necessary. In class, his potions had a disturbing tendency to end explosively at the worst possible time.

"I shall, of course, be remedying these issues while he is under my charge this summer," Severus said as Potter returned to the room, dragging his trunk. "We will be leaving from here. The Headmaster has provided Potter with a potion that will disguise his identity. Potter, strip."

Potter looked like he was going to object to stripping, but Severus kept his glare on him. Out of the corner of his eye, Severus noticed that Vernon had a particular expression of glee in his face, as if he was enjoying seeing Potter strip. It was a red flag to the Head of Slytherin.

Potter's head dropped with resignation. He took off his shoes and socks first, turning around before dropping his trousers. Potter bent down to pick up his trousers to fold them up, and Severus noticed the first scar, right across his bottom. Potter had been whipped with a belt so long and hard that it had bled and scared. As Potter pulled his shirt over his head, Severus noticed the scars cris-crossing his back.

He was familiar with all of the types, there were burn scars, and whipping scars. Scars caused by belts and scars caused by rods, he identified them all on the boy-who-lived. Potter folded up his shirt, still facing away.

Severus turned away from Potter and looked right in the eyes of Vernon Dursley. He was no fan of Potter, but now that he'd seen the scars, he couldn't deny the signs he had seen and dismissed at Hogwarts anymore. He didn't even need to say the word to see in Dursley's mind that he was not only responsible, but had taken pleasure in it. Wandlessly and silently he froze Dursley in place. Severus looked in Petunia's eyes, and found fear. Fear of him, of course, but also fear of Vernon. He left her alone.

He looked back at Potter, who had turned back around. Potter was covering himself, trying to give himself a little dignity. Severus almost wished that it hadn't been standard procedure with transformation potions like the one he was about to hand Potter for the subject to strip. With a genetic suppression potion it was important that a Potion Master observe the transformation carefully for any abnormalities. Catching his gaze, Severus suddenly realized that he was letting Potter stand vulnerable to the gaze of his tormenters. He quickly transfigured the end table to a screen that obscured the view of Potter from those seated on the sofa, chastizing himself for not realizing that before.

Severus reached into his bag and pulled out the potion, as he turned back towards the Dursley's. "Mr. Dursley, I have been head of Slytherin House since the Autumn of 1982," Severus said, his eyes locked on Potter's uncle. "I have seen many students who have been treated like your nephew by their family. I have not been kind to those responsible for such treatment of my Slytherins. I was one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, and you would have been dead before Christmas if I had been your nephew's Head of House."

He then altered his gaze. "Petunia, I suggest that you make sure that the life insurance is paid up." Severus then looked back at Potter. The boy's mouth was open with surprise. "Potter, drink this."

Potter uncorked the vial and swallowed the deep purple liquid. It took maybe three gulps to consume the whole potion, and then Potter began to change.

The first change that Severus noticed was that Potter was getting just a bit taller. His hair started to get longer. Then Potter's stance shifted, and Severus's gaze dropped. It seemed that Potter's privileges were shrinking. Potter trembled, and Severus caught his gaze again. The roots of his hair were turning red, and Potter was growing breasts. A brief glance downward confirmed that Potter would not be cutting a swath through the ladies of Cokeworth this Summer, as instead he'd be worried about someone doing it to him. Potter's body shook, as the transformation completed. Severus circled around Potter once, looking for any abnormalities in the transformation, his wand silently casting to assure he didn't miss anything.

Only once he was done did it fully hit the Potion's Master what was standing before him and his family. No longer was there the embarrassed naked dark haired boy, the spitting image of his father. Now it was a trembling naked flame haired girl, the spitting image of her mother. Severus suppressed a groan. Potter was spending the summer with him, and instead of the hated visage of his father, he was going to be dealing with the daughter who was the spitting image of the only woman he had ever loved.

The image of a Lily appeared to have a greater effect on Petunia. She had dropped off the couch to her knees. "Lily. I'm sorry Lily. I couldn't do it, Lily. I'm sorry Lily. I should have tried harder. I should have treated him well, Lily."

Tears were running down Petunia's face. At a glance, Severus knew that she thought she was seeing her dead sister, coming back to life. Potter, on the other hand looked in shock. "Petunia!" Snape said sharply, as he grabbed Potter's t-shirt from where the student had placed it on the top of his trunk. He shook it out and transfigured it into a much longer simple dress. "Potter, put this on."

Potter caught the tossed dress, as Severus bent down to help Petunia up. "Severus, why has Lily come back?" the woman asked.

"That's not Lily," Severus said, firmly. "Though you might want to think about what Lily would think about how you treated her son. "

Petunia sat down, and nodded. Only after she had sat down, did Severus notice that Dudley had entered the parlor. "Harry?" The voice was tentative, full of disbelief at what he was seeing. "What happened to you?"

"I don't know," Potter replied, nearly knocking his glasses off as he pushed his head through the top of the dress. "I think the potion turned me into a girl."

"The potion I gave you suppresses a portion of your genetic code," Snape said, as the dress he'd created for Potter settled down to about a foot above Potter's knees. "It would appear that the Headmaster keyed it to suppress your father's contribution. It is reversible, and will require booster doses." Then he turned to the youngest Dursley. "It can be used on others."

Suddenly, Dudley's hands went to cover between his legs.

"Potter, take hold of your trunk," Severus ordered, moving to stand next to him. "Petunia, I will be back to talk."


	4. Ignoring Doctor's Advice

_**Author's Note**__: It looks like the muse is alternating between this and _Prometheus Unbound_. I would like to thank those who helped me with the characterization of Snape during the last few chapters. It's been something that's hard to handle. I'm seeing a trend to these chapters getting longer as I rewrite them. I think that's generally a good thing.  
><em>

_There was a minor update to this chapter's second scene on 2/4/15/_

**Chapter Three**

Molly Weasley was seated in the front parlor, listening to one of Snape's records, a performance of Vivaldi's Four Seasons by the London Symphony, when Snape appeared. The Slytherin Head of House had his arm around a girl. The girl's hand was on her trunk, which immediately tumbled over. Only the fact that Molly knew who Snape was retrieving allowed her to identify her.

Molly Weasley had seen many a poor clothes transfiguration attempt, especially of dresses, back when she was attending Hogwarts. It was obvious from what the girl was wearing that Professor Snape was not a transfiguration professor. The dress was thin, way too thin. Even in this warm weather it was obviously not enough coverage. Her red hair was not Weasley red. That was a bit deeper, more towards scarlet than the flaming red that she had last seen on Lily Potter but now graced the form of Harry Potter.

"Mrs. Weasley," Professor Snape greeted. "I take it that dinner is merely simmering until we are ready to eat?"

"Ginny's finishing the bread now," Molly replied, as her focus remained on Harry. "Welcome to Spinner's End, Harry. Sorry that you won't be able to spend time at the Burrow this summer, but Ginny will be here with you, and I imagine that I'll stop by a few times."

"Indeed," Snape said. "Though it will be limited. Mr. Potter, Mrs. Weasley will be playing the role of Placement Advisor this Summer. Your cover here is that you and Ginny are my cousins, who recently lost their mother in a house fire. I shall be going over your cover identities during dinner."

Molly noticed how slumped Harry's posture was. To the mother, it was a sign that Harry needed one thing to at least get through to dinner. "Come, I think you need a hug," she said to Harry, her arms pulling Harry close. Harry was a bit taller than her Ginny was, and the transformation had given her a much more developed bust line than her daughter. She held Harry close, letting him draw a bit of comfort from the protection of her arms.

When Harry had first come to the Burrow the previous summer, it had been clear that the boy was not sure about being hugged, but by the time he'd left for Hogwarts, Molly had made great strides in his acceptance of being hugged. In fact, the boy had practically lapped up the affection that she lavished on him. It had been clear to her that at the very least the boy had been starved of affection, if not starved in general, and Molly had made a point of giving Harry as much love as she could. She knew Harry appreciated it. None of her boys wrote thank you letters like he did for Christmas gifts and the incidentals that she managed to scratch together to send to Hogwarts.

She felt Harry beginning to pull away and she let him. Looking at Harry's attire again, it was clear to her that it would not do. "Severus, we have to do something immediately about Harry's attire," she said.

"Indeed," Professor Snape replied. "The Headmaster has provided a stipend for clothing. I intend to go shopping tomorrow with the girls."

"Yes, but we need to have a goodbye out front before I return to the Burrow, and that dress is not suitable," Molly said.

"Neither is anything else in Potter's trunk," Professor Snape stated.

"I can, at the very least, transfigure something better to last until then," Molly said firmly.

* * *

><p>It was almost five minutes later that Molly found herself being hugged by her daughter, tears running down both their faces, on the steps of Number Ten Spinner's End. After her daughter pulled away, she pulled Harry into a similar hug. It was quite an emotional parting in front of the residents of Spinner's End.<p>

It looked like the whole street had managed to show up to see it too. A skateboarder had actually caused poor Harry to have to jump back before Molly could hug him, at first. There were three people walking their dogs, and a young boy chasing a cat. That was before Molly started counting the number of people sitting out on their steps in the afternoon sun on the other side of the street.

"Now, remember, girls," Molly admonished after she finished her hugs. "I want you to contact me if you have any problems. We take placement very seriously. I know that Mr. Snape is your father's nephew, but that doesn't mean that we will take any less care to make sure the transition of custody is any less suitable than otherwise."

"Yes Mrs. Prewett," Ginny replied with a bit of a grin. Harry remained silent, his head looking down.

"And that goes for you too, Harry," Molly said, raising his chin so she could look in the eyes of the boy turned girl.

"Yes Mrs. Prewett," Harry echoed.

With tears in her eyes, Molly pulled away from her daughter, and the boy turned girl who she wished was. She opened the door, dodging that skateboarder again, before she sat down in her Stag. As the tears slid down her face, she turned the key, revived the engine, and pulled out of Spinner's End.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape gently turned Ginny Weasley's gaze away from where her mother's car had disappeared around the corner. He'd been quite surprised to see her pull up in what looked like a mint condition '72 Triumph Stag. It was not something he expected to see from the cash strapped family. Judging from the way she pulled away from the curb, Molly Weasley felt the need for speed.<p>

As they re-entered Number Seven, took the time to examine the two girls who would be his charges for the summer. Ginny Weasley had taken a potion that had matched up her hair and eyes with Harry's. Severus cursed the Headmaster for what he was sure was not going to be the last time. As a Hogwarts Head of House, he was well aware what two girls could get up to. With one especially looking like Lily, his childhood friend from just a few blocks over, he knew all the things that had attracted her in the very town. He was sure that Lily would come back to kill him if he allowed her son to get into some of the things that she did.

For a moment, he let them proceed him into the house. Ginny had come wearing a rather nice, if a bit formal deep blue blouse with matching slacks. It was obviously her muggle bests. Judging from his review of her trunk, she would need a few clothes to round out her playing the orphaned girl spending the summer with her new guardian. His other charge would need much more.

Harry, Severus was making a point to think of him by that name, not his hated last name, needed everything. Being a newly transformed girl, that was perhaps a given. Since his trunk had spilled on arrival, Severus knew that would have been true regardless of his transformation's effects. It was obvious that the only items that had fit Harry at the end of the school year were his school robes, and even they were a bit short after a year's growth.

Molly Weasley, or as she was going by for the Summer during her occasional visits, Mrs. Prewett, had transfigured one of Harry's robes into a nice set of clothes, similar to Ginny's outfit, though with a deep green top, a particular shade that his mother preferred, matching their eyes, and black slacks. A second set had been transfigured for use in their shopping the next morning.

He was not looking forward to taking them down to the shops off High Street. In his experience, going with girls shopping was a chore that he could do without. Unfortunately, it was his duty. And by bringing Harry into his home, he was now committed to the duty of caring for the now daughter of Lily Evans, with a side of Weasley.

The scent of fresh baked bread waffled from the kitchen at the rear of the house. Checking his watch, a gift from Minerva the previous Christmas, he saw that there was at least a good five minutes of simmering left on the beef stew which the Weasley ladies had started on his stove. Everything else was waiting that last bit. Plenty of time, he judged to get some of the of the necessary rules set.

Suddenly Severus realized that Molly had made a mistake, a mistake that invalidated much of the prepared paperwork that the Headmaster had provided. "Potter," Severus said, stopping the boy turned girl's progress down the hall towards the kitchen.

"Yes, Professor Snape?" Harry said in a surprisingly polite tone. Severus figured that he would have been angry, answering abrasively. It was as if he was answering like one trained in the service.

"Mrs. Weasley, by calling you Harry outside. has upset the documentation that had been set up for you this summer," Snape began. It was something that Albus really should have considered when he gave an amateur like Molly Weasley an acting role. "I have documentation making you Hazel Jasmine Prince, just like Miss Weasley is now Ginger Ariana Prince. We now need to correct your documents with a name that can be shortened to Harry, but is not easily seen as such that I can use to refer to you in full when visitors stop by. I'd like you to come up with one before bedtime tonight. Use the Comprehendum of Acceptable Names by Walburga Black. The Prince family used it almost exclusively, even those that were exiled to the muggle world. It's in the parlor."

"Yes sir," Harry said, before continuing on into the kitchen.

* * *

><p>The scent of fresh baked bread filled the room. Ginny Weasley was proud of her success in baking. She was sure that Professor Snape would not expect this much for dinner. Her mother had told the Professor that Ginny would be able to "able to heat up a little dinner" to be ready when he and Potter arrived. Then her mother had sat back in the corner and watched.<p>

Ginny had quickly investigated the kitchen including the gas range and oven. Fortunately like her father Ginny had a bit of interest in Muggle things. Unlike her father, Ginny had sought out more reliable sources. It also helped that there was a rather old and dusty cook book that she discovered in the cupboards flanking the oven. There been some notations in a spidery feminine hand about the particularities of the oven and stove. It had accidentally opened up to a recipe for Italian bread with the notation "Severus's Favorite."

There had been just enough ingredients for it. She'd also been able to make a vegetable beef stew that looked quite well. The bread was on the table covered with a towel in a basket. Soup bowls were set out, and she found a ladle to serve stew.

Harry's arrival and her mother's departure had been almost perfectly timed. The stew was simmering, almost ready to serve, and the Italian twisted bread sticks had just been pulled out of the oven. Ginny had covered the bread with a couple dish towels, and placed the basket on the table, just as the crack of Professor Snape's arrival echoed through the house.

Ginny hoped that the meal she'd made to impress Harry Potter would be good. With her mother's departure, she quickly checked to make sure everything was ready. Glasses were on the table, along with soup bowls and plates for the bread.

Harry Potter's arrival was more unexpected than not. Ginny Weasley had expected a boy older than her, a little bit taller than her, dark hair, brilliant green eyes, with a thin and wiry body. That was not what was holding on to the arm of her hook nosed Professor, when she'd come to greet him. Instead there was a red haired girl who looked almost a couple years older than Ginny with a wiry build and brilliant green eyes that Ginny Weasley would recognize anywhere.

As soon as her mother had departed, Ginny had dashed back in to check the stove. The stew wasn't done yet. She stirred it a bit to judge how long. "Professor Snape, the stew should be done in a couple minutes or so," she announced as he entered just behind Harry.

"Good," Professor Snape said. "Harry, I think you need to sit down."

Ginny followed the professor's gaze, and noticed that Harry seemed to be trembling, and even slightly swaying. The boy turned girl was pale, nearly white as a sheet. He practically fell into the chair.

"Ginny, pour Harry a glass of lemonade," Professor Snape said. "It is in the blue pitcher. Do not jar the red one when you remove it, or I may have to replace my icebox."

Ginny quickly followed the Professor's instructions. She also placed the bread on the table, before checking the stew, again. It wasn't quite ready. She looked back at Harry, who had already finished half of his glass, and was now nibbling on a slice of bread that the Professor had apparently cut while her back was turned. Professor Snape had taken a seat right at Harry's side.

"Do you think you can make it through the meal, Harry, or should I take you up to bed," Professor Snape said in a tone that Ginny had never heard from the Head of Slytherin. It was soft, without the sharp biting tone that she'd grown to expect from him. The volume was barely above a whisper, and there was a surprising hint of warmth to it. Harry nodded. The Professor continued with a much more firm tone.

"Then while we wait the last few minutes for the stew to finish simmering, perhaps now would be a good time for a few ground rules for the summer. First of all, I shall be addressing you by your preferred diminutives, or at least what everyone else considers to be your diminutives, when we are not with visitors. Outside this house, you may expect me to refer to you as Ginger, Ginny, and Harry can expect what ever name you chose. I need that name by morning, Harry. You may call me Master Snape or just Professor.

"There will be no references used by either of you to the last names of Potter or Weasley. This is important for both your safeties. Given my position, it should not be unexpected when some current students from Slytherin or alumni visit. You may expect in particular, Draco Malfoy, of whom I expect you to not give a single hint that you are familiar with."

"Yes sir!" Ginny replied. It would not be easy. Ginny had her own encounters with the Malfoy heir, and upon finding out who had placed the diary in her cauldron, a deep hatred for his father. Still, she would try to be prepared for the encounter.

"I am well aware that on holidays, students rejoice in sleeping in. I am also aware that you both are currently having issues sleeping. In fact, tonight, I shall be providing for you both, as an option, a vial of Dreamless sleep. I will not be forcing you to take it, though, Given that, I will also not be forcing a morning wake up call. You will, however, have a nine post meridian bed time. I expect both of you to have prepared for bed appropriately by then.

"Inside this house, I expect you not to disturb any of my papers in my study. There is a potions lab in the basement. Do not disturb it. You may, later in the summer, be asked to assist me, and I shall correct some notable deficiencies in your brewing habits. Lunch will be served precisely at noon. Be late, and miss it. There will be a snack provided at tea time, though I shall not require you to join me in my afternoon tea, do not disturb me during it. The evening meal will be at six. Again, be late and miss it.

"You both will be assigned some minor chores, and be expected to keep your rooms clean, as well as clean up any of your own messes. There are no house elves on Spinner's End to clean up after you.

"Both of you will be under the care of a mind healer, or as she's known outside the magical world, a psychologist. I shall expect you both to behave appropriately with her, and follow any instructions she gives you.

"Finally, I will not be confining either of you, in the course of normal events to this house. However, there are limits to how much roaming you may do in Cokeworth. I do expect that you will inform me, or in my absence, leave a note on my study door, any time you leave the house to let me know what you are doing. In your wanderings around town, you shall not cross the canal, go past Church Street, or go past the park. You may, however enjoy the entire park. It was one of my favorite places to go when I was your age. Ginny, is the stew ready now?"

Ginny checked. "Yes, Professor." She took the pot of the stove, and took it to the table, placing it on a hot pad that she'd put there earlier. Her mind was full of conflict, as she processed what Professor Snape had said. It was not what she expected from him. He was firm in his rules, but there seemed to be a lot of slack and freedom that she hadn't expected. And that last bit about the park, the wistful expression on his face when he said it was entirely unexpected. She took the seat.

"Harry, are you familiar with saying grace before meals?" Professor Snape asked.

"No sir," Harry replied, looking up and meeting the Professor's gaze.

"It was one of the things that your grandmother always insisted on whenever I was lucky enough to join your mother's family for a meal," Snape said. "So, perhaps I should share her favorite blessing with you. Place you palms together, bow your head, close your eyes, and listen." Ginny followed his instructions. There was a momentary silence, and then the Professor began to speak, as if he was drawing each words from long buried memories of a better time. The words coming out as if each word was precious, to be spoken of fondly, and somehow imbued with a reverence that could not be denied.

"Bless us, oh Lord, and these, thy gifts which we have received from thy bounty. Bless those gathered around this table, that they may find solace in thy hands. Forever and ever, Amen."

* * *

><p>Harry Potter stood looking at himself in the mirror in Snape's bathroom. Or should it be herself, he asked himself. The potion that Snape had given him had turned him into a girl. It was supposed to be temporary, but Harry did not trust Snape.<p>

He only really needed to wash his face before he retreated to the room he'd been given, as he'd taken a shower before he left Privet Drive. Harry couldn't help staring at himself in the mirror, though. The changes had been complete, but until this moment he had not been able to really see the changes himself.

Though it wasn't the most significant change, it was the hair that caught his attention in the mirror. No longer was it black and unruly. Now it was red, tendrils of flame framing his face and cascading down to his shoulders. He still was wearing the deep green button down shirt that Mrs. Weasley had transfigured for him. He couldn't sleep in it. Ginny had provided him a night shirt.

He removed the shirt, bringing to his gaze in the mirror, the breasts. Or should it be The Breasts. It seemed like they should be capitalized. They were an unfamiliar weight on his chest, not as big as Hermione's, and certainly not in Lavender's league. He'd noticed the development of the girls in his year last year. None of them could hide their breasts under the robes, as most could have in his first year. Harry wished he could hide his.

The cool air of the bathroom made his nipples perk, and he shivered a bit in the circulation below the bathroom fan. Harry raised his right hand to touch his breasts, to prove that they were real. Then, almost of their own accord his hands moved to lower his pants, accidentally dropping the worn boxers along with the pants that Mrs. Weasley had transfigured. He was glad that she'd replaced the dress than Snape had transfigured. He was not going to ever trust what Snape transfigured.

Harry's eyes briefly darted down, catching sight of what had replaced the equipment he was born with. As his gaze once again shot upwards, he blushed. With his eyes once again focused straight forward, the though suddenly crossed his mind, the carpet matches the drapes.

He picked up the wash cloth that he'd put in the sink, and lathered it up, trying to keep his mind off the changes down there by focusing on his face. There wasn't a lot of distance, so he could see everything clearly. Harry didn't think much had changed with the contours of his face, but across his nose there was a sprinkling of freckles that he hadn't had before.

He scrubbed his face a bit roughly, noticing that there was a bit of a scent to the soap, though he couldn't quite place what it was. He rinsed out the cloth, and then bent over the sink to make it easier to wash off the soap from his face. Then he let out the water, wringing out the cloth before hanging it up where he'd been told to do, on top of the shower curtain rod. Only then did he pick up the towel to dry off.

Over the head went the night shirt, before he picked up his glasses. A quick check, and he decided they didn't need to be cleaned at the moment, so on they went, and the world went back into focus again. If only it would focus to show what he had been when he left Hogwarts.

Ginny had said she slept in her night shirt and panties, never her bra, so Harry slid back on his boxers, before placing the rest of his clothes in the hamper. He then opened the door and stepped out into the hall, right into of Professor Snape.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said, trembling, and nearly falling. His balance seemed to be a bit out.

"I take it from the fact that you re-shelved the Comprehendum of Acceptable Names, you have chosen one?" Snape said, gently stabilizing Harry's stance.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied. He'd spend a good hour, while Ginny prepared for bed, looking through the book for names that could be short for Harry. Most of them were also forms of Henry, and to his mind that was a bit too close, though he'd once wished that his own name was Henry. "Harikleia Zhaklina Prince."

"An interesting choice," Snape said. "We shall say that it was your father's choice, with your mother having named Ginny. I shall have the paperwork updated. I shall have to return briefly to Privet Drive. It seems that I forgot to release the spell I put your uncle under."

"Don't bother," Harry muttered.

"There are times when responsibility goes against one's wishes. I shall return in less than an hour. I trust that both of your can survive that length of time. Ginny is already asleep, having consumed a dose of dreamless sleep. I expect you shall follow, shortly"

* * *

><p>Severus Snape appeared with a crack back in the parlor of Number Four Privet Drive. Vernon Dursley was still seated on the sofa, held there by the petrification spell that Severus had cast while Harry was undressing. The screen that he'd transfigured had already reverted to the coffee table.<p>

"Vernon Dursley, I am so glad that the spell hasn't worn off," Severus said, wandlessly and wordlessly casting a spell to ensure that he would not be interrupted. Then with great malice, he invaded Vernon's mind, using the incantation so the vile man would know he did it. "Legilimens! You feel quite frustrated, being unable to move under my spell. I know you hate magic. You're struggling against its bounds.

"You really shouldn't be doing that. I can see your doctor advised you to be careful, loose weight, and exercise more. You haven't been doing that have you? I didn't think so. Your heart rate seems to be increasing, and I can see your temple throbbing as you try to move, to escape the wizard standing in front of you.

"There is no escape. If you were to by some miracle reverse the petrification that I have you under, I would simply re-apply it before you could even stand. Oh dear, it seems that you were not able to get to the toilet. You really shouldn't have consumed all of that wine at your last meal it seems that it had gone right through you. I really should clean it up from Petunia's sofa. It's something she really doesn't need, given what's happening to you.

"You see, I do not countenance any abuse of my students. I especially countenance the abuse of the son of Lily Evans. You see, I grew up with Lily and Petunia. Lily was the only woman I ever loved. I may have never forgiven James Potter from marrying her, and looking at his son, who is the spitting image of him, may set me on edge, but Harry is Lily's child, and I will do anything, I have done everything, to protect him.

"I have defied the most evil dark lord, a dark lord who had bound my very soul with darkness, when I learnt he was going after Lily. I can do no less to those that abused her son, the only living memory of the one I loved. Feeling a bit of fear, Vernon?

"I saw the marks you left on him. I can see every memory you have of abusing him. I can see the perverse pleasure you took at harming him, trying to kill his very soul. I can see how each strike of your belt excited you. It is a good thing that Harry was not female when Professor Dumbledore left him on your threshold. I can see what you would have done to her. She wouldn't have been able to walk normally after you were done. You've been thinking on it on and off since he was transformed in front of you.

"I was one of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters, a member of his inner circle, and his potions master. I could brew potions that would ruin your life, that would have you dying in pain. I could curse you with pain so terrible that your mind would break. I could force you to do unspeakable acts where you would never escape witnesses to your crimes, and no one would ever believe that I made you do it.

"I could do all of that, but I am not. You see, right now, your heart is beating so hard that it's about to bust loose some of that stuff that's been building up in your blood vessels for years. The question is, will it lodge in your heart, or your brain. Personally I'm hoping for your brain.

"You've just started to feel a pain in your chest, haven't you. Your breath seems a bit short Vernon, and you're sweating heavily. I bet you wouldn't even be able to stand if I let up my spell, or call for help. Perhaps I should let Petunia in. She might be able to call for help, and get you to the hospital on time. I think not.

"No, Vernon, you're not going to get help. You can feel everything closing in on you now, can't you? Your heart isn't beating right any more. You're not getting enough oxygen to your brain. You really shouldn't have let yourself become so angry, Vernon. You did it to yourself. Good Night, Vernon."

Severus undid all his spells on Number Four Privet Drive and apprarated back to his house. He left Vernon Dursley falling off the couch, only now able to call out in a rough strained voice, as night closed in on him. "Petunia!" Then with less force, "help."

* * *

><p><strong><em>Author's Note: <em>**_I'm not saying he's dead or alive. He could be surviving. He could be spending a lot of time in a coma. He could end up with a severe disability. Or he could come out with just a brush with death and no further physical issues. Feel free to convince me as to what results from this last scene. _


	5. Take Two of These in the Morning

_**Author's Note:**__I'm finally out of the set up part of this story. Okay, you still have to meet Harry and Ginny's psychologist, but other than that every one is firmly in place. _

**Chapter Four**

Harry Potter woke up his first morning as a girl, rather uncomfortably. While the bed was actually rather good, with a nice firm but not to firm mattress, and the pillow was not that bad, though he would have preferred something a bit thicker, that did not account for the differences in anatomy causing problems with his preferred sleeping position.

Harry tended to sleep partially on his side, mostly on his stomach, though. It was the result of a long standing habit, developed due to the fact that he could easily curl up in a protective ball if his uncle started his punishment. With his new breasts, however, it had driven him into a slightly modified position that had left him with a rather stiff neck and from the way it felt, possibly a bruised breast. His boxers were also a bit twisted and dug into his hip.

Harry stretched in bed, his left hand hitting the wall behind the head of the bed, before rolling out to stand. Sleepily he removed the night shirt and put on the robe that had been hanging on a hook on the backside of the door. Only then did he turn on the light, put on his glasses and take a look at himself in the mirror.

His red hair was a tangle around his face, and with only the robe on, he showed an uncomfortable amount of cleavage. Off went the robe, and back on the night shirt, before putting back on the robe. There was a brief pause as he had to readjust his boxers, as they had sild down a bit. He hoped they'd stay up.

Snape had left a brush on the shelf bellow the mirror, which was mercifully a non-magical one. Harry had suffered through the insults against his hair with two successive ones in the Gryffindor Boys dorm, and shuddered at the thought of what his messy shoulder length hair would result in. Recalling some instructions overheard in the Gryffindor common room, Harry began to carefully brush the tangles out of his hair.

As he brushed, he marveled at the way his hair looked like tendrils of fire surrounding his face. It didn't take long to do, actually. In a way, the longer hair seemed to be a lot easier to tame, or at least meet the admittedly low standards that Harry had for the styling of his hair.

Then out of the room, and down the stairs, Harry went, moving as quietly as possible. Dudley always pounded down the stairs, but not Harry. Harry kept things quiet, making sure that Uncle Vernon was only woken by his alarm, or perhaps the scent of breakfast. It was always best when Uncle Vernon woke due to the scent of a well prepared breakfast.

It was not yet light enough in the kitchen to cook without the lights, so Harry flicked on the switch. The light flickered on with a slight hum. Harry examined the stove and other appliances. They all looked old, but serviceable. There was a coffee pot next to the stove, ready to go on the stove. As Harry watched, the stove turned on and the coffee pot slid over, just as the clock turned to six twenty.

Harry smiled. It was obvious that Snape had sent up that. He moved to the ice box, as the Professor had called it, and pulled out a couple eggs. Judging from the supply, it looked like eggs was part of Snape's regular breakfast. A little butter on the frying pan, and Harry was able to start up his favorite type of eggs, scrambled. He knew how to make others, like sunny side up, but scrambled appealed to him. He removed a couple plates from the cupboard, and pulled a couple slices of bread from the bread box.

Harry liked his bread lightly toasted, and well buttered. It didn't take long for him his breakfast to be ready, but he didn't move from his post near the stove as he started to nibble his toast. He as hungry this morning, so he expected that he'd probably need to make more eggs. He didn't think Snape would begrudge him an extra egg or two, unlike Aunt Petunia.

Looking back through the door way to the hall, he spotted Professor Snape turning down the hall from the stairs. "Good Morning Professor, how do you like your eggs?" Harry asked.

"Sunny-side up, two," Snape replied, as he entered the kitchen. The Professor was definitely not dressed like he did at Hogwarts. He wore a gray collared shirt, with a trio of buttons, the top of which was not buttoned, and a pair of slightly faded black pants.

"Coming right up," Harry said, retrieving another pair from the ice box. He neatly cracked them and began to cook them, only pausing to pour a cup of coffee for the Professor. As he handed Snape the cup, Harry saw an expression that he had rarely if ever seen on the Head of Slytherin.

Snape smiled.

* * *

><p>Severus Snape was not a morning person, really. He was more of one than several of his colleagues though. With just the scent of his favored Turkish blend of coffee, he would wake up enough to function. At Hogwarts, he had it strategically delivered to his main room, on an occasional table that was right outside the door to his bedroom. At Spinner's End, he'd set up his coffee pot to make six cups every morning, charmed to start at just the right time for the scent to waft up and wake up in time to have a relaxing morning. Not that he drank six cups, he just couldn't get it to make any less.<p>

He didn't expect that when he entered his kitchen, still in his night robe, Harry Potter would be busy making eggs. For just a moment, the resemblance between mother and transformed to a daughter son fed a long dead dream of waking up to Lily cooking. He quickly banished the thoughts to answer Harry's request on what eggs he wanted.

The Daily Prophet arrived just as he sat down to await his eggs, cup of coffee in his hand. He placed the coffee down to retrieve the Prophet from the owl. Unrolling it, he looked at the headline. It looked like the Daily Prophet was going to do another Thousand Gallon Draw.

The plate of eggs seemed to just appear on the table in front of him. "Thank you, Harry," Snape said. "I did not expect you to be cooking breakfast this summer."

"I always do it for the Dursleys," Harry said. "It's habit."

Severus took a bite of the eggs. They were perfect. "Understand that I'm not going to require you to wake up early every morning to do breakfast. I am not your despicable aunt or uncle. I want you to have a much more normal Summer. You are about to turn thirteen, and I've never known a teenager not to want to sleep in. I certainly encounter enough of my older Slytherins sleeping through breakfast each year."

"I kind of like to cook, especially when can make something for myself," Harry admitted, putting another slice of toast in the toaster. "Aunt Petunia had me cooking since I was five, especially breakfast. I'm really good at cooking breakfast, dinner, not so much. My pies and tarts, though get rave reviews."

"Then, I trust you to make breakfast at your pleasure," Severus said, turning to sports. "We shall be going shopping for new attire for you and Ginny as soon as she is up and ready." As he looked down at the scores, he caught the fall of Harry's boxers from under her night shirt. "I suggest you look for a more fitting pair for shopping."

* * *

><p>Ginny Weasley had not expected to get much when Professor Snape had taken her and Harry to the muggle clothing store. She had a rather good supply of almost everything she thought she needed. A couple new outfits that weren't second hand would be nice, but she really didn't expect anything more.<p>

The strange thin white bags she placed on the bed in her room for the summer were bulging. She wasn't sure what the bags were made of, but they were surprisingly strong for their thinness. The first thing she took out of one of the bags was one of her new bras. She really hadn't expected to need one, but after the lady measured Harry for his, the lady had turned to her. She hadn't expected to get measured, and being told she was wearing a too small bra was entirely unexpected.

Ginny took off her blouse, and for the first time attempted to put on a real muggle style bra. She'd listened closely when the sales lady had advised Harry on "a better way to put on a bra." The bras she'd seen at school with the well developed members of her class hadn't had hooks like this one. It took a couple attempts to hook them right, and Ginny was glad she'd followed the suggestion to do the hooks in the front, then rotate it around and pull the straps over her shoulders.

She pulled out a shirt, something the sales lady had called a knock off polo. Ginny buttoned all but one button after she slid it over her head, before pulling out the jeans. Genuine Levi jeans. She'd heard all about the brand from some of the muggle-born girls. It was, according to Lisa-Marie, the original, accept no substitute brand. Ginny had managed to score one pair stone-washed, one pair black, and two pairs of the original dark blue denim.

She quickly replaced her shorts with the black jeans, before taking a look at herself in the mirror. With her hair cascading across the deep blue shirt, instead of being restrained in any way, Ginny thought she looked a lot more grown up. Ponytails made her hair easy to handle, but there was something about the way her hair looked unrestrained that Ginny always liked. She pushed her hair back over her shoulders.

She was ready to see this ... what had Professor Snape called her again ... yes ... psychologist. Ginny wasn't sure what that word meant, but after four days with only ten not so good hours of sleep, she would take any help she could get.

* * *

><p>Petunia Evans Dursley sat in the Emergency Room of Prince John Hospital in Greater Whinging. The room was white, the chairs were white, the nurses wore white ... the only color in the room was Petunia's amethyst earrings, reflected in the steel top of the table, in between ancient copies of the Times.<p>

Petunia felt as if her life had been whited out from the moment she'd been shunted into this room. Her Vernon had a heart attack, or as the person in the ambulance had said, an acute myocardial infarction type one. Petunia had just known it would happen some day. Vernon had long spurned the advice of his doctors. Publically she tended to side with him. That was what she'd always been told that a wife should do. Privately she'd worried, where and when no one could see.

Vernon was all she really had. She had not had a job since she had worked at the flower shop before she had Dudley. Dudley ... where was Dudley? She'd left her Dudley-kins home alone. He had just turned thirteen. Dudley couldn't survive alone without his mother ... without his father. What were they going to do if Vernon died.

Marge wouldn't help. Marge would probably contest Vernon's will. Petunia hated Marge. She tried to hide it, for Vernon's sake. Her dogs always scared Petunia. She'd seen them attack Harry, and knew that they could turn on Petunia and Marge would not lift a finger.

Where was the doctor? What was going on with Vernon? Petunia's vision was washed out with tears as she waited in the room, hoping beyond all hope that her Vernon would recover, that the surgeon would come out and announce that all was well.

Petunia remembered the last time she'd talked to Vernon, after Harry and his Professor had left. Vernon had been beside himself with anger that the Professor had frozen him. The reflection of the stone of her earrings reminded her of the shade that Vernon had taken while he was frozen by the spell. Petunia wanted to blame Severus, Lily's friend who had taken her sister away, for that. She couldn't honestly do so, no matter how much she wanted to. She'd seen Vernon that way so many times when somethings went other than the way he expected them to.

Here in the white of the room, Petunia couldn't hide anything from herself. The folds of the papers in front of her suddenly brought to mind the scars that she'd seen on the back of Harry Potter. Until he'd stood there, vulnerable, his eyes meeting hers, before Severus had raised the screen to provide Harry with some protection. Even after, his eyes still stared down at her over the barrier, as if to say don't deny what you saw.

Then he'd downed that potion, and suddenly it wasn't Harry Potter with his deep green eyes staring at her, but her sister Lily with those emerald eyes she'd always wished she had. Petunia knew it was still Harry, but the image was too much. She couldn't deny that she had done wrong, not with the spitting image of her sister Lily looking at her. If only he'd been her that first day of November when she'd found him on her steps.

It had been oh so easy to push Harry away. To associate him with the man who had put the nail in the coffin of her sister's exile from home by providing her with a new home, a home away from that jealous sister who deep down didn't want her sister to go away, who longed to pull her sister back into her embrace. To pull Lily into a hug and hear the whispers she'd heard again and again but had never believed, that she hadn't lost Lily.

But she had lost Lily. Lost her to a magical world, lost her to a school so far away from home, and lost her to a man that she'd loved dearly. She'd lost Lily long before Harry Potter had turned up on her doorstep with that letter, the letter that had changed everything. The letter that had made final Petunia's loss of her Irish twin.

And now she sat in this white, washed out world, knowing that her world had changed again. Before, she still had a chance. Before, she could have changed. Before, she could have met the challenge.

She had not. She had put her sister's child away in the closet. She could have shown love, not hate, and she infected the whole house with her hatred. If she had not been that way to Harry, maybe Harry wouldn't have shown so much reactive magic and driven Vernon to react with anger.

It was all her fault, that was the one thing that Petunia knew was true as she awaited word on her Vernon. If she hadn't done anything to Harry, neither would Vernon have, she was sure. If she had been better to Harry ... to Lily, she wouldn't be in this washed out white world.

Suddenly something else filled her view, a black t-shirt whose logo she couldn't read through her tears. A hand fell on to her shoulders, as she looked up into the blue-green eyes of her son.

"Mum, is Daddy going to be okay?" Dudley said, his voice sounding not the mature and assured newly christened teen, but the breaking sadness of a child whose world had just cracked open.

"I don't know, Dudley," Petunia admitted. "No one's told me anything since they sent me here."

"It's bad, isn't it?" Dudley asked. "Daddy might die."

"I hope not," Petunia said, drawing her son into her lap. His heavy weight leaning into her somehow grounded her, ended her spiral of thoughts. "I'll be here for you, always my little Dudley-kin."

"No you won't," Dudley said as he buried his face in Petunia's shoulder, just like he'd done when he was much littler. "Harry's parents are dead."

Petunia didn't know how to say anything to that. She'd known that the words were coming. Having taken in an orphan, how could she not? All she could do was hold her son, hoping that by her arms around him she could reassure him in a way that words that couldn't come did not.

"Mrs. Dursley?"

* * *

><p><em>I think I'll let the fate of Vernon Dursley go a little more.<em>


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